


there's someone i've been missing (i think that they could be you)

by secretsarenotforfree



Category: Castle (TV 2009)
Genre: Blue Coats, F/M, Missing someone you love, anyway i got this idea the other day and HERE IT BE, baths, idk if that counts as a character BUT IT IS TO ME, introspective, love me some girlfriend!beckett huh?, plus - Freeform, rysposito are mentioned but not really here, the Loft, the redheads too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsarenotforfree/pseuds/secretsarenotforfree
Summary: She misses him.Let's herself realize that she does.Presses into the bittersweet bits of her memory the way that the days hung heavier on her shoulders with him gone.
Relationships: Kate Beckett/Richard Castle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	there's someone i've been missing (i think that they could be you)

**Author's Note:**

> this idea had been lurking in my head for weeks, but i'm rewatching season five and got powerfully motivated. sketched out most of the beats of this in my head yesterday during my own bath (DON'T make this dirty, I SEE YOU) and got down two paragraphs that popped into my head perfectly formed. FINISHED IT TODAY. 
> 
> set vaguely around 5.14! before or after, whatever you want, but in that space.
> 
> title from 'coming home' by onerepublic, which i dare you to play while you read.
> 
> dARE YOU.

She had forgotten.

It was a golden thing, the fact that she had. Heavy in its weight, shiny, filled with elements hiding emotions that she didn’t want to unpack. That she would let Burke do for her, next time she saw him. Nevertheless, golden it still was, golden that the days stringing together of him by her side stretched long and comfortably enough that things were different if he wasn't. That she felt it when he went away.

It wasn't even that long, really. In the grand scheme of things.

He's been asked to feature on a panel at a college down the coach. One of the scattered friends he'd made in his years crafting his first novel in bars, and shops, and libraries, across the city was now a professor. Called him personally, one that Beckett had overheard when Castle had taken it. Lazily listened to the half of the conversation she could hear clearly with her ear pressed against his broad barrel chest and continued her light dozing from a long day. A long night. Hears him promise, through the steady thump of his heart, he won’t be gone long at all, to which she insists that she probably won’t even notice he was gone, but if he even spoke to one co-ed outside of the classroom that she had a gun. And she wasn’t above flying there to prove it.

Thing was, it was a three day panel with hours of change for travel, two states away, and there’s an ache in her chest. There is a too big space at her elbow where he is supposed to be, there is too clear of a sound without his voice to interrupt it, and there is the _missing_. 

Because Kate does, truly. 

She misses him.

Let's herself realize that she does.

Presses into the bittersweet bits of her memory the way that the days hung heavier on her shoulders with him gone. That the rosy sheen of the glasses he forced their little crew to wear wore off when he wasn't there to keep it's hue with his painted words. That he gave her more warmth in his pressed cup of coffee than her coats did all day, and the precinct looked emptier without him there. Looked a little wrong. Ryan and Esposito were still there, still her partners, her family, rising her up even when she was feeling down, but they had to go out, sometimes. Had to check out this place or that, volunteering to be the men on the ground. Knowing that even if Kate didn’t say it, she always felt better when Castle was at her back. She loved them, she did, but it wasn’t the same. 

(They were missing a Musketeer and didn’t steer quite as well without him.)

Her steps had been heavier, weight on the thick heel of short navy boots as she took a walk home to clear her head. To try and think through how a 34 year old woman is discovered in the attic of a model home only two miles from her house with no witnesses to be found. To spread the pieces of the case in her mind - the son's description of her temperament the last few days, how they still hadn't gotten in touch with the as yet elusive first husband, and the missing time between. To try and not let the emotion of the victims wide eyed eight year old who refused to lower the hood of his sweatshirt and had the saddest eyes Kate had seen in a long time overwhelm her.

(Not long enough.)

It's early spring, and the breeze still makes her glad she had still opted for a light coat today. Grey blue, and one of Castle's favorites; maybe, because he had made her quite aware of how he loved to undo the frustratingly tint row of buttons that led from the high collar to the notched coattails that hung just to her hips. The thought makes her smile, a tiny thing she tucks into the high collar, and an idea bloom in her chest. A direction for her feet to take, that has her wheeling from the steps that would eventually her to her apartment.

She nods at Wesley the doorman with familiarity when he holds open the door and shoots her a rather un-professional-doorman-like grin. He liked Kate the most, of the two that they had, and didn’t give her dirty looks when she showed up smelling particularly like gunshot and death.

Kate gets herself easily into the corner of the elevator and tips her head back. Meanders her mind over the thought of how endlessly Castle would have complained about being on the sixth floor without the metal contraption, and about how many times she’d spent time waiting. The butt of her gun cold against the sliver of skin her shifting might expose, the weight of her badge lightened by the company she was going to get.

The key is small and nondescript in her palms when she slides it into the lock, the fading rays of the sun streaming on Kate’s honey toned hair when she jiggles it slightly to the right like Castle taught her. It is her favorite key, in a treasured place next to the one that opened her own apartment, and a gift that made her blush to think about how its meaning had changed. How the first time he’d given it to her, before death bloomed in her sternum, it had meant everything and yet _had_ to mean nothing, because it wasn’t allowed to be. Because messages on her phone from Josh still called her sweetheart and Gina’s lipstick had only just faded from his lighter shaded collars of his shirts. Because it wasn’t allowed to mean anything.

But it did, because he wanted her to have it. _In case of emergencies,_ Castle had insisted, a few days after the scent of ice had been firmly replaced in her mind by his cologne, pressing it into her palm, and Kate had allowed the protests to die on her lips. To see the whispered dark memories that they shared and how brave he was being, giving this to her.

Now, the slim metal meant none of those things.

Now, it showed her that she had another home, blessedly filled with life and miraculously welcome for her to come to.

The lights are dark when she gets in, the shut of the door behind her reminding her in a whisper of when it had been her back connecting with the thick wood and paint instead, but Kate stills says “Hello?” anyway. Lays her purse on the back of the couch and inanely goes through the routine of getting a drink.

Normally, Kate doesn’t like to be at the loft when he isn’t.

The lines between her and the place are blurred, grounded and focused only in his presence. It isn’t even as much the loft itself, gorgeous windows that she’d gazed at and wondered time and time again after leaving, dark furniture that spoke to him and the artful, inspired touches that gave the tiniest hint into its colorful residents. It was Martha, really, and Alexis, but not in a bad way. (Not that.) It was them in that, despite everything, Kate felt as though she couldn’t truly tell how they felt about her. About how their opinion of her had waxed and waned, fluctuated by the status of her relationship Castle, and anyone could tell you it had been rocky. It was good, more often than not, yes, but when it was bad it was _bad_ , and she had been a bit of a coward. Knew that she was avoiding Castle’s redheaded girls in the aftermath of that pine tree scented summer buried in her grandmother’s quilts and pretending the world outside wasn’t as poisoned and crooked as she knew it was. She tried not to get involved because she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to anymore. Didn’t know if she was forgiven for the pain she’d put Castle through, or if she could be.

Things were better, after the bank, little steps on the journey that took them today, but still.

It was _their_ place. It was Castle’s. Even if after so long, she finally got to call him hers too.

That was why the little things meant so much. Things like early, early mornings when Castle was still dead to the world on a paperwork day and Kate was making coffee, already dressed for the day, when Alexis bounces down the stairs. Things like, the lack of the light surprise in the blue eyes that reminded her so much of Castle’s and the easy way Alexis asks if she could have a cup too and stops Kate’s stuttering apologies. Things like Martha bringing home ten different bottles of wine one night to have a tasting with her on one of Kate’s rare days off with a declaration of “broadening your horizons, darling.” Things like Kate treasured every chance she had to spend time with them, to learn about these women that so shaped the man that she loved and how their family unit had bled into each other in a way that stopped in Kate’s life the night her mother hadn’t shown up. She was a little bit in love with Castle’s girls too, because how could she not? They both held bits of him. Alexis’s intelligence, her drive and passion. Martha’s way of lighting up a room and deep, poorly hidden empathy. 

All three women were learning, at the end of it, and that’s what mattered.

She learned, and loved more, and Alexis and Martha learned, and loved more, and their ties knit stronger. 

There was no guarantee that Martha wouldn’t appear, or Alexis, but the last time she’d spoken to both women they’d given no indication of spending much time at the loft this weekend. Alexis had a midterm project that she was intending on being laser focused on, and Martha was critiquing one of her student’s. For now, at least, it seemed like Kate was alone.

The reminder of that has Kate shaking off the needless feelings of trespassing and banishes the thoughts in the space of her swallow. Lets her hazel eyes blink in the dark light and settle the now empty glass in the dishwasher. Has her collecting her purse and heading to his bedroom, a pleasure that still glowed warm in her chest. How many times had she peeked past the teasing shelves? Wondered what the most personal place of Castle’s loft looked like, of how it would speak of him? Smell of him? Wonders that Kate’s gotten the chance to put to bed every time she does the same, and she never wants to go back.

Castle can keep his mysteries, for the most part. She would rather have the answers instead.

His robe is thick and fluffy, the towelishness she was used to in her own bathroom falling miles short of whatever it was made out of. The sleeves fall just past Kate’s fingers and require immediate rolling back, the collar lifting higher the sloppy bun she made of tresses still a little crinkled and waves from the french braided bun it had spent all day in. After she finishes folding her clothes, a neat little pile next to the bathroom door, she gives herself a moment of allowance. Bunches the material in her hands to take a deep inhale, and pretend it’s his arms banded round her waist instead of the terry cloth tie. That he’s warming her bare body instead, although if he was Kate doubted that she would truly make it to the tub.

The _tub_.

Her favorite discovery in his personal space, her searching methodical and drawn out to soak in every detail of his she could. His bathroom? Probably the largest indulgence of the loft. The fantastical stories he spun, the extravagant purchases he waxed about not making, they all came true in that gorgeous tub. It was huge, deep, bronze through and through and locked to the ground. A customized wrought metal caddy held his body wash, the clean scent that lingered in his cologne and in the robe around her, but that wasn’t what brought a little red to her cheeks. It was the inclusion of her favorite conditioner next to his, the lilac and cherry scent that he had noticed years ago. It was the quiet presence of her stuff being so matter of factly with his own.

When she sinks into the near scalding water she gives a small sigh of bliss because honestly, nothing makes Kate’s evening like a bath. Especially a bath with an uncorked bottle of wine easy handswith from her position at the top of the tub. Castle, the attention to detail person that he was, somehow had managed to get a tub that was just deep enough and just wide enough. There was a little extra space, considering the fact that she was alone, but she was okay with that. That was why she was here, surrounded by his things when she could have the real flesh and blood person. To try and let loose her worries, just for the evening, on the steam that reached her long fringe and warmed her face. To acquiesce to the fact that yes, Beckett was a classy lady, but sometimes you didn’t care about class. Sometimes, you just wanted to drink straight from the mouth of the bottle with the dimmer on the sink lights and a carefully selected playlist soaring from her phone speakers.

Didn’t have to be complicated to be relaxing.

Kate’s not a grumpy person. She’s not particularly ornery by nature, and she can see the bright side of things. She didn’t used to let them lighten her up as well, of course, but through her darkness there was hope. There was warmth. There was happiness.

Much, much more of it now than she had in years, because of him. Because of them.

He was right.

He had been, those years ago, when the ground they stood on was shaking apart, mere days from the trajectory flying wildly off track. A double digit amout of hours to stack between their angry, raw, _ugly_ truths and the green _green_ grass and his blue _blue_ eyes. And that deathly soft, horror filled thing masquerading as his voice, letting loose his confession, settling _I love you_ 's on that new hole in her chest and changing everything. Changing them.

Before all that, Castle had been right, and she couldn’t bear that he was. Hated in the way that you are helpless in the knowledge of someone who knew you sometimes better than you did yourself, hates that you loved it too.

_You could be happy, Kate. You deserve to be happy._

She did. She does. She is.

It's a lovely thing to think about, after all this time.

It’s more than a few songs and more than a few red wine swallows before Kate tips back her head. Lets her eyelids droop close and her thoughts drift away. Couldn’t tell you the amount of minutes that slipped past when there’s an outside noise. A slight rustling, the sound of a door opening and closing, and a presence that she recognizes. A familiar weight in the air that she senses without even happening, and the slight shifting of her world. Like someone turned on the vibrancy of the world around her, hues deeper and colors brighter, and when something presses into her lips she can’t help but smile. Bring up her hands, wet and all, to frame his cheeks and pull his kiss to her, pleased and earnest.

Kate’s eyes don’t flutter open until the kiss ends and Castle murmurs a playful, tender “Gross.” about her wet hands.

“Hey, you.” Wine, bath loosened, and just plain happy to see him, Kate nuzzles his nose with her own. Drinks in the eye crinkles that makes her feet curl and his comfortable, traveling flannel, black and navy. _His colors._

“Hey you, back.” Castle’s knelt at the side of the tub, a position that she’s sure can’t be good long term on your knees, but he doesn’t seem particularly bothered. The now open door shows his traveling bags piled on the floor in the bedroom, but its hard to notice them when he’s rolled up his sleeve and is trailing his hand in the cooler water. Brushing against her drawn up kneecaps and the lines of her thighs like it wouldn’t drive her mad. Like it wouldn’t warm her from the inside out all over again, bath be damned. “Didn’t want to spend another night there. Thought I’d come home early. You said the case wasn’t going well, so…” he shrugs gently, tracing her features still with his eyes. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Mmmm.” Kate brushes her fingertips through the floppy edges of his hair, a little of his volume by a plane ride she was sure hadn’t been much fun, first class and all. “Call me next time.”

“Call you?” Castle cups the back of her head with his dry hand and kissed her again, deeper this time, his other fingers curling around the back of her knee. 

“Yeah." Kate smiles, pliant and love soft and just a little tired. "Next time, wake me up.”

“Okay.” He gives her one of those slow grins that makes the years fall from his shoulders and happiness shine through his face. “I will. In the meantime….room for one more?”

Kate lets out a tiny noise in the middle of a grumble and a sigh and drops her hands from his face. “I did not run this bath for _us_ I ran it for _me_. Plus, I’m ready to get out. So maybe next time.”

Castle pouts, all pleading eyes. “Are you sure.”

“Yes. Yes!” She laughs, eyes sparkling even in the low light. “Don’t give me that look. I’ll get out in a moment.” 

He gives a deeply disappointed noise. “Buzzkill.”

“Go.” Her hands push at his shoulders, and after stealing one more kiss on her cheek Castle finally moves. Disappears into the bedroom while Kate sits up a little and attempts to stop her smile, but gives up. Lets it make her cheeks a little sore and covers her face for a moment, biting her lip through it. 

She’s really, _really_ happy that he’s home.

It’s nice to be allowed to be this happy.

An untouched moment of serenity that quickly takes a turn when Castle re-appears, this time without his clothes, and makes a beeline for her and Kate gives a startled, laughing scream. “Castle! Castle, what’re you doing, _stop_ ! You’re a grown _man_!”

(It doesn’t stop him.

She doesn’t seem to mind.)

  
  



End file.
